Dance With Me
by all-hail-queen-ga'ran
Summary: Commission for the lovely Zillabean. It's carnival season in Monte D'Or, and Layton, Luke and Emmy have come to visit. Emmy looks very beautiful in her party dress, and Layton can't help but notice. There's also the slight problem of sleeping arrangements in their hotel room. One single bed, and one double. And Luke has taken the single...
**Another commission from the wonderful Zillabean: the most devoted Layton/Emmy shipper I have ever had the pleasure of doing business with.**

 **This is slightly inspired by the bonus cutscene (aka fan service) from Miracle Mask Plus, where Layton and Emmy are dancing through the streets of Monte D'Or. Of course, it's not all Luke's dream this time. That would be incredibly weird. Although let's not pretend that Luke is any less filthy minded than most 11-year-old boys.**

Perhaps it was just the moonlight, or the atmosphere of the festival, or the champagne Randall had forced down him earlier, but Emmy had never looked so beautiful as she did right now. She wore a gown of glistening, soft pink chiffon, which trailed to the floor and hugged her body in all the right places. She stood next to Angela, who Layton had previously considered to be the most beautiful woman he had ever known, and she outshone her completely.

"Ahem," Emmy cleared her throat, "my eyes are up here, Professor." She let him sit in uncomfortable silence for a second before chuckling at him, breaking the tension. Angela laughed with her, raising her hand to delicately cover her face, as she always did when she laughed.

"I take it you like how I dressed your assistant, Hershel?" Angela teased. "It took me _hours_ to convince her to come with me to Ludmilla's. She _insisted_ we would never find a dress that suited her, and that she just _can't_ wear girly clothes, but look how wrong that turned out to be, Emmy! Honestly, you should wear dresses more often, but then again, I don't know if poor Hershel could get any work done if you looked this gorgeous _all_ the time." With that, she winked, and left Layton and Emmy alone in the bustling crowd.

Layton blushed, uncomfortable with the new level of familiarity Angela had just forced the two onto. He was unsure whether to laugh off her comment, or to say something. He opened his mouth to speak, when he noticed that Emmy's cheeks were also slightly flushed.

"Phew!" Emmy said, fanning herself, "it is _so_ hot over here in the crowd!" Layton raised his eyebrows at her poor attempt to explain her blushing. "Who knew Monte D'Or could get so _busy?_ Why don't we go somewhere quieter, Professor?" She turned, making towards a grassy area where the carnival-goers were slightly more sparse. Layton followed, seating himself on a wooden bench next to her.

The Monte D'Or carnival season had come once again, and Randall had insisted that Layton, Luke and Emmy come along. Of course Layton had been more than happy to do so; it was a delight to see the city thrive as it always had, despite what had happened barely six months ago. He wondered how Randall had the energy for it all: helping Henry and Angela run a city as well as planning his wedding, but he seemed to have plenty to spare when he had dragged Layton to the boutique and forced a new suit and hat onto him. Layton still wasn't sure white was his colour...

He glanced at Emmy, noticing the large white flower settled in her long hair. It made her look so soft, so _pretty,_ as opposed to her usual practical air. Layton supposed he was just not used to her seeming so _feminine._

"I must say," he said, glancing back at the dancers in the street, "it's quite a relief to be out of that fray. I'll admit I've never been well-suited to parties."

"Me neither," Emmy agreed, "I can't stand the frantic-ness of it all. I feel like I'm being...swept away on a tide of people." She paused, "that might seem like a strange thing to say." She caught his eyes, waiting for a reaction. She had such lovely eyes, Layton thought; they always seemed to...sparkle with life.

"No," he said, not breaking eye contact, "I know exactly what you mean." They stayed captured in each other's gazes for a while, Emmy's lips parting absent-mindedly. Layton imagined how easy it would be to lean in and kiss Emmy, to close the gap between their lips, and the gap between their boundaries. He was not supposed to feel this way about his assistant, but she was _right there,_ and staring straight back at him.

Emmy blinked out of their shared trance. She sprung to her feet, her signature carefree smile on her face again. "Care for a dance, Professor?" she asked. Layton's eyes widened in horror.

"Oh, no," he shook his head, "I'm sorry, Emmy, but I'm no dancer. Why don't you find Henry, or Luke?" Emmy frowned, cocking her head to the side as if to challenge the seriousness of his suggestion.

"Come on, Professor," she said, and grabbed his arm, pulling him up with a fragment of her strength. There was no escape now. He sighed, and followed her back towards the crowd.

As soon as they reached the street, Emmy stepped close to him, their bodies only inches apart. "Emmy-" he protested, and Emmy answered him by pushing his hand into her waist, and settling her hand on his shoulder. She took his other hand in hers, and began to step along to the rhythm.

"Oh-" Layton teetered, unsure of what to do with his feet, or his hands, or his eyes, for that matter.

"Just follow my lead," Emmy reassured, pulling herself in even closer to him. After a few minutes, Layton found himself gradually getting the hang of the dance.

They danced further and further into the crowd, Emmy stepping and twirling like a pro, and Layton fumbling along a beat or two behind. She looked up at him and grinned. "Isn't this fun, Professor?" she asked.

"Yes," a small smile crossed Layton's face, "I suppose it is."

Suddenly, the music lulled into a slow song, and couples all around them started to lean into each other, swaying gently along with the music. Before Layton could protest, Emmy's body was pushed flush against his, her head laying sideways against his chest. He gasped, taken by surprise, but did not break away, instead allowing himself to fully feel her against him, the warmth of her face against him, her ample chest pushing into his. He began to relax a little, and sway along with her. He would have to have a formal word with her about this later.

After about a minute, Layton felt Emmy push her hips into his. He gulped, but said nothing. Perhaps it was part of the dance. Emmy continued to grind gently against him to the rhythm of the music, leaving Layton with a red face, and a hardening erection. She noticed immediately, and locked eyes with him, giving him a sly smile. She pushed herself harder against his groin, and Layton felt his hardened crotch touch somewhere warm. He gasped, and tightened his grip on Emmy's waist. Half of him wanted to run away at once, paranoid that someone would notice what they were doing. The other half of him wanted seize her lips in a kiss and ravish her body with his hands.

They danced on, Emmy pushing his length further and further between her legs, until he was rock hard. Layton felt panic setting in; he had to take care of this or it would take care of itself, right in front of the whole City of Miracles...

"Hershey!" a voice shocked him out of his daze. He almost jumped away from Emmy, mortified at having been discovered at such a moment. Randall slapped him on the back, and reached one arm around his shoulder, the other around Emmy's. "It's great to see you two enjoying each other so much," Layton balked at that, Emmy smirked, "but Luke has fallen asleep next to the candyfloss stand. You'd best take him back to the Camel's Hump, although I'm sure Pascal will keep an eye on him for you if you two want to keep dancing." Layton sighed, mostly in relief.

"Thank you, Randall," he said. "I'm not sure about Emmy, but I think I'll retire to bed along with Luke." At last, he would be out of sight of the crowds, out of sight of Emmy.

oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

As Layton and Emmy approached the brightly lit hotel, a sleeping Luke slumped over Layton's back, Emmy seemed a little agitated. Whether it was nerves, excitement, or something else, Layton could not tell.

Pascal greeted them courteously, as he always did, and handed Emmy their key card. They traipsed up the stairs in tense silence, and entered their room to find-

A single bed, and a double bed.

Layton sorely regretted allowing Emmy and Luke to check them in and bring their bags up, while he found somewhere to park the Laytonmobile. The double bed was in the main part of the room, while the single was around a corner from it, separated by the en suite. Layton decided he would share the double with Luke, and Emmy could have the single- He looked down at his crotch, he was still hard, although no longer visibly so. He definitely could not share a bed with a child. He considered asking Emmy to share with Luke, and taking the single himself, but that would be most impolite and certainly not what a gentleman does. But what _did_ a gentleman do in this situation?

Emmy promptly answered that question, carefully extracting Luke from Layton's back and carrying him over to the single bed. Layton watched as she removed his shoes and gently tucked him into bed. He smiled; he never would have guessed Emmy had a maternal side to her.

"I suppose that means we're sharing tonight," Layton concluded. There wasn't much he could do about it now.

"Yes, I suppose it does," Emmy smiled, walking over to the bed and slipping out of her dress. It appeared she was retiring to bed along with him. Layton's hopes of a quiet, uneventful sleep were dashed.

"Oh," he blushed, trying not to look at his assistant in her underwear. He grabbed his sleepwear and made his way to the bathroom to change, hiding the growing bulge in his trousers.

He sighed as he closed the door; what on earth would he do now? It would be extremely improper to lay next to Emmy all night with a straining erection, and going by Emmy's earlier behaviour, it was likely to lead to something that certainly should _not_ happen between a man and his assistant. He decided to deal with the problem head on, and turned the shower on cold.

The freezing rivulets of water made arousal impossible, even while Layton's mind wandered to Emmy in various states of undress, just on the other side of the wall... He stayed in the shower for a good ten minutes, letting the cold ebb through his entire body. Hopefully that would last the night.

He pulled on a t-shirt and a clean pair of boxers - it was far too hot in Monte D'Or for pajamas - and emerged into the bedroom. Emmy was standing by the window, brushing out her abundant hair. She wore a rather tight tank top which did not hide much at all, and some very small pajama shorts. She turned, noticing Layton's presence, and smiled at him. Layton noticed her nipples peaking through her top, and prayed that his body would behave itself long enough for him to fall asleep without any embarrassment.

Layton climbed into bed, and Emmy walked off to the bathroom, her long, toned legs almost rippling with her stride. Layton watched her for a second, then switched off his bedside lamp and turned over to sleep.

Five minutes later, he heard a click and saw the light disappear from behind his closed eyes. The mattress bounced as Emmy slid into bed next to him.

"Mmmmm," she moaned, "this is a lovely bed, isn't it?" Layton, captivated by the sound she'd just made, murmured in reply.

They lay in silence for a while, and Emmy's breathing deepened. Layton supposed she must have fallen asleep already.

Then he felt a hand brush his leg. He gently removed it, and placed it next to it's owner. Emmy murmured in her sleep, and shuffled closer, so she was snuggled against Layton. Her breasts pushed against his arm, and her leg slid down against his. Layton felt a bulge grow in his boxers once more. He considered pushing her back to her side of the bed, but he didn't have the heart to disturb her sleep. And he couldn't deny that he quite liked this. He curled his arm around her shoulders, and he could swear he saw a smile cross Emmy's face- No, it was too dark to tell, he was just imagining things. He closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.

Suddenly, Emmy slid her hand down his body, placing it right over his hardened crotch. Layton rolled away from her in alarm.

"Emmy!" he exclaimed, "wh-what are you doing?" His face was red in fury and fluster. Emmy chuckled softly.

"I know you liked that, Professor," she said, taking a seductive tone Layton had never heard from her before. He said nothing, waiting for her to say something that would justify him rolling back into bed and _fucking_ her like he'd wanted to all night. "There's nothing stopping us," she continued, "just relax, and go along with me."

"O-okay," Layton stuttered, rolling back over into the middle of the bed. He was too aroused to form a proper sentence, a problem that had always plagued him in these situations. Despite how dominant he wanted to be right now, he had absolutely no idea how to do this with a woman he wasn't even _dating..._

Emmy swung a leg over him, sitting astride his stomach, and Layton realised Emmy was about to address that particular uncertainty. She leaned down, her hair cascading down before her, and kissed him deeply. He moaned into her mouth, choking a little as her tongue slid over his. Emmy broke the kiss, and hovered her lips by Layton's ear.

"I want to try something," she whispered, and sat up, flashing Layton a playful smile. She swiftly pulled her tank top off over her head, and discarded it next to her. Layton's breath hitched at the sight of her huge breasts, so perfectly round, so perfectly _soft_.

Emmy slid down under the sheets, settling between his legs. She yanked his boxers down, and pushed her breasts on either side of his rock hard length. Layton moaned, the feeling of her smooth skin against him almost too good to bear. She lifted her chest up and down, rubbing him quickly. When he felt himself nearing bursting point, she took his tip in her mouth, pleasuring him with both her breasts and her mouth at once. Layton's eyes rolled back slightly and he let out a strained moan; he had never felt anything like this. He fought the urge to push her head down, digging his fingers into the sheets instead.

"Emmy, I'm going to- ah!" Emmy slid her mouth over his entire length just in time to catch all of the fluids that exploded out of him. She swallowed a few times, then emerged from the sheets, wiping a smudge of white from her lip with the back of her hand. She grinned at him, looking very pleased with herself.

"How did you like that Professor?" she asked, wiping the small amount of fluid that had trickled into her chest with bunched up bed sheets. Layton stared at her, awestruck by her confidence. She could handle absolutely anything...

"Well?" Emmy was impatient for an answer, "don't you have anything to say? Have I left you speechle- mm!"

Layton grabbed her head, kissing her hard, tangling his fingers in her hair. She moaned softly against him, driving him wild. He pushed her down onto the pillows, and knelt up between her legs. He pulled off his t-shirt, Emmy reaching up to help him, her hands wandering over Layton's toned chest. Layton firmly pushed her back down, and pinned her wrists to the mattress with his hands. He pressed his lips against her chest, then closed his mouth over each breast, flicking his tongue over hardened nipples. He earned a loud moan in reply; Emmy clearly loved being dominated as much as she loved being dominant.

His lips wandered down her body, kissing all the way down her defined abs, ending up between her legs. He pulled off her shorts and swirled his tongue around her swollen clit, and she began to buck her hips in his face. He felt her twitch a little, nearly reaching climax, and her breaths became shallow and fast. Once Layton was sure she was almost over the edge, he stopped pleasuring her, bringing himself upright once more.

"Please, Professor," Emmy panted, "you _can't_ just stop there!"

Layton chuckled mischievously, "oh, I'm _far_ from finished." He suspended himself over her, and entered her roughly with a loud grunt, eliciting a loud gasp. He felt as though his body had been taken over by something desperate, something animalistic. He thrust hard, completely burying himself inside Emmy. He placed his hands on either side of her head, and eaned down, kissing her passionately. He trailed his lips down once again, and sucked hard on her collarbone, leaving a dark purple bruise there. Emmy squealed at the feeling, and clutched his back, pulling him closer against her. Layton left four more bruises around her neck and breasts, and realised how grateful he was for Emmy's usually conservative attire. Love bites would be a difficult thing to explain to Luke in the morning.

Layton grabbed the headboard of the bed, thrusting with all of his strength. Emmy bucked her hips against his, and crossed her legs behind his. She moaned, and convulsed as she came, digging her fingernails into the skin of Layton's back. Her walls tightened around Layton as she came, and he felt his own climax nearing. He cried out as it washed over him, jerking with such force that the bed shuddered against the wall.

Once he was finished, he pulled out of Emmy and lay beside her, the two of them panting in exhaustion. Emmy propped herself up on her elbow, beaming from ear to ear.

"Wow, I didn't know you had it in you, Professor!" she said, laughing. Layton blushed, all of his recent confidence seemingly gone.

"Well, it's not like I get to...let go like that often," he explained, "most ladies require more...gentle handling."

Emmy laughed, "I suppose you're right." She flexed her arm muscle, "my workouts make me strong enough to handle any man, in a fight _and_ in bed!" Layton chuckled along with her and shook his head, Emmy Altava would never change.

And he never, ever wanted her to.


End file.
